


Sun In the Midnight Sky

by StarsAndStitches



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Math and Science Metaphors, Metaphors, Music, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pining, Pre-Reichenbach, Science, Stars, Stream of Consciousness, and there is tea of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 16:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8453905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsAndStitches/pseuds/StarsAndStitches
Summary: A little piece about how Sherlock perceives himself and his flatmate. Dated some time before the fall. Sherlock did not delete the stars here. My first fan fiction.

There was the man who was the midnight sky. Velvety blackness with sparkling sequins strewn across. Aloof. Alien. Cold. Considered beautiful by some who looked up at night, enchanted by the meadows of twinkling lights against the dark background....Stars were also dying, of course. Some were cooling down to oblivion with a small resigned sigh. Some terminated their performance with an orgasmic explosion of plasma and colour that the humans would call 'supernova'. 'Amazing', they would say when they spotted it. The man had done that, too. Aeons ago, on a small insignificant planet, some place called Sussex. Lying next to his brother and gazing up, filled with wonder. His brother? How could the night sky have a brother?





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : I do not own anything. "Sherlock" belongs to the BBC, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. And humankind is forever indebted to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for conceiving Sherlock Holmes.
> 
> One sunday morning I woke up and the Sherlock in my head had this for me. All I had to do was try and see if I could put it in words. And indulge my little astrophysicist's heart. 
> 
> This is my first fan fiction, so please be kind!  
> Also English is not my first language. If you find any mistakes, please let me know!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcome and appreciated.  
> Enjoy reading! :)

**First movement: Tempo a piacere, brillante e espressivo**

There was the man who was the midnight sky. Velvety blackness with sparkling sequins strewn across. Aloof. Alien. Cold. Considered beautiful by some who looked up at night, enchanted by the meadows of twinkling lights against the dark background. They even gave them silly names like 'Vega', 'Epsilon Eridani' or 'Aldebaran'. They grouped them into pictures they called 'Ursa Maior' or 'Sagittarius', attaching meaning where there was none. Idiots.

Because the stars did not actually twinkle. They were definitely not winking friendly at the humans down below. It was the restlessness of the atmosphere, mist in the observers' eyes. A delusion, nothing more. The stars, the real stars were piercing pins of light, white or blue or yellow or reddish. Neither friendly nor hostile. They just were. Motionless and merciless. Stars do not relate to primates on a god-forsaken rock somewhere in the backyard of the Milky Way.

Neither did the man who was the night sky. An impressive façade presented to others. A dark curtain with glittering trinkets to hide the truth. Because the humans did not know the truth, could not stand it. The raw nature of the universe beyond. The realm where the unforgiving eternal laws of physics ruled. Unthinking uncaring forces of a magnitude their tiny brains could not fathom. Powers of Ten.

Where spacetime was distorted, and energy and matter danced their everlasting pas de deux of formation and annihilation. Or was it a fight? Where gravity and magnetic fields and radiation forever created and destroyed and created again. Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva. On the largest scales and the smallest.

Unmeasurable voids of sheer nothingness gaping between galactic clusters. So empty and dark, so devoid of light and substance and hope, that no human soul would ever dare to come here. Virgo cluster, the domain of the virgin.

Galaxies colliding in slow motion. Silent first, oh so silent. Tentative, almost gentle, but unstoppable. Gaining momentum in a furious crescendo as they grabbed hold. Until they were tearing each other apart at the very core, screaming in high-pitched tones only he could hear. Finally settling into a new equilibrium, slowly sinking into each other's embrace, sighing contentedly.

Radiation everywhere. Pure untamed energy, travelling at the highest speed possible. From low-rumbling radio waves to screeching gamma rays, illuminating, penetrating, fulfilling. Clarity and knowledge. Spectrum of enlightenment, instant revelation. Because nothing is faster than the speed of thought.

Spiral arms chasing each other in a cosmic merry-go-round. Shock waves breaking and crushing on invisible shores. Clouds collapsing on their own gravity, giving birth to stars. Blindingly bright blue-white giants flashing into existence. Consumed by their own atomic fire. New sequins on the curtain, burning out fast.

Stars were also dying, of course. Some were cooling down to oblivion with a small resigned sigh. Some terminated their performance with an orgasmic explosion of plasma and colour that the humans would call 'supernova'. 'Amazing', they would say when they spotted it. The man had done that, too. Aeons ago, on a small insignificant planet, some place called Sussex. Lying next to his brother and gazing up, filled with wonder. _His brother? How could the night sky have a brother?_

Giant molecular clouds drifting idly amongst the stars, glowing dimly with warm microwave radiation. Refuge, cocoon. The good kind of darkness. Where the molecules would swirl around him, forming their rings and chains. Constantly finding each other, letting go and finding other partners again. Familiar. Order and structure and meaningful names. Tranquil. A respite. Until the assaults set in. Hateful words, hitting hard like x-rays. Slashing and tearing and biting. Evaporating the peace. Smashing the order. _Arsehole!_ Relentlessly. _Bloody posh poof!_ Deeper and deeper. _Monster!_ Again. _Psychopath!_ And again. _Machine!_ Down to his core. _Freak!_ Until the cocoon was in tatters. _Would he ever be able to recover?_

And the man knew it all, saw it all, was it all.

Crystal clear and logical on the one hand. Brutal and chaotic on the other. Beauty and terror. Serenity and turmoil. Blazingly hot and icily cold. And places where even the concept of temperature had lost its relevance long ago. Contradictions. No, not contradictions - opposites. Complementing each other, synthesizing into something ... something bigger, vaster. Ethereal. Awe-inspiring. Incomprehensible, even for him.

And it all was music somehow. And as the man loved music he could hear it in his mind. Pianissimo and mezzoforte. Terrifying and soothing. The slow minuet of the Milky Way, graceful. Andante and allegro. The mumbling bass in the background, nearly inaudible, there since the birth of time. Low rumbles and ear-splitting screeches. Pizzicato. Legato now. Violent deafening tutti at some times. A single sad violin at others. All melting together into the symphony that was he.

But none of that showed to others. 'Brilliant', some would call him or 'fantastic'. Very few had even described him as 'gorgeous' or 'beautiful'. Most would avoid him completely. Many detested him. _Piss off!_ He didn't care. They never saw beyond the curtain and the glittery stuff. How could they even? The night sky was too far away obviously, light years away. Out of their reach. Not that anyone ever tried, though. He was clearly not like them. Ultimately alien, incompatible. It was ridiculous to compare them to him. Preposterous. What did he care about a blue-green planet orbiting an unassuming yellow star, or the insects crawling on its face?  
  


**Second movement: Moderato amoroso**

And there was the man who was the sun. And as the sun was a star and stars had names, this one had one, too. _John. Just John._

His eyes resembled the clear sky on a June evening just before the first star came out at dusk, a deep blue-grey ocean that stretched to infinity. His hair radiant with sunlight that had taken up residence there. Golden and blue. Utterly handsome.

A light that did not blind but lightened your path. A heat that did not scorch but warmed your soul. A presence that made you want to smile and sing and sigh deeply.

Steady and reliable, reassuring, never wavering. Day in, day out. Like he had done for billions of years now, and would continue to do for billions of years to come.

Bringing hope like the first triumphant ray of the morning sun cutting through the pre-dawn mist. _Everything will turn out alright. I am here now. Trust me._ Giving comfort like the timid single beam breaking through storm clouds. _I am at your side. You're not alone. Lean on me. Let me dry your tears._ Leaving a promise like the last red-golden glow of the evening sun setting on the sea. _Don't be afraid. I will be back soon. I always come back, always._

When you were hurt and weary of the world his kindness would embrace you. _Just rest here for a little while and let me take you in my arms. Close your eyes and feel my touch. Don't worry. It will be fine, all fine._ Healing, a doctor.

Even when he was away for the night you could still feel his presence around you and hear his voice whispering in your heart. His valiant solar wind would keep all the nameless terrors of a cruel unconcerned universe at bay. _Nothing bad can hurt you here. I keep you safe. I hold you._ Protective, a soldier.

It was easy to love John the sun. Because he made things better for the people he cared about. With his warm smile, his kind words and his strong hands. A little joy in their lives. Sunny spots on a trail in the woods. And the midnight sky saw the sun. And wanted and yearned and ached for it. Craved to bask in the sunlight, to savour its unconditional tenderness like a lover's touch.

 

**Third movement: Andante misterioso**

Creature of the night, tall and slender, moonlight skin and midnight curls, eyes like swirling galaxies. Clad in deeply saturated colours, moving swiftly, elegantly and - if he wanted to - unnoticed. For years on end now the man who was the night sky had immersed himself in the city that suited him like no other. Dark and damp and dangerous. He had roamed restlessly through nocturnal alleys and along deserted river banks. He had hidden in buildings that could not rightfully be called houses, let alone homes. He had paced rain-soaked pavements under starless skies without aim, driven and adrift. Hoping against hope that someone like the man who was the sun would find him nevertheless. And the miracle had happened, John had come to him one bleak January afternoon, had handed him his phone, and the sun had ri-

"Tea, Sherlock?"

His eyes snapped open. There, in front of the sofa he was lying on, was the sun. Two steaming mugs in his hands and an encouraging smile on his loveable face, light streaming through his hair from the window behind. _John._

"Um, er... yes. Thank you John."

And he hoped that his sun did not notice the single tear that was rolling down from the corner of his eye.

  


  
  


 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading!
> 
> This is my first fan fiction, and your feedback is very much appreciated. Please help me to become a better writer!
> 
> All the best!


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